


The Bounty Part 3 - The Black Tentacula

by gracediamondsfear



Series: The Bounty Series [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black leather belts, Bondage, D/s, Draco Malfoy in Leather Pants, F/M, Harry Potter AU, Quite Literally, Smut just smut, Wax Play, Wizard sex clubs, and chocolate fondue, mild bratting, sex in public, war ongoing, with a little bit of story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 18:36:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14983154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracediamondsfear/pseuds/gracediamondsfear
Summary: When last we left our star crossed lovers:“I want you to promise me you’ll give me one more chance. If you ever find me again I want you to promise to come with me one more time, for a weekend. No, for four days. And not just for sex…although I promise at least seventy percent fucking.”“I promise, Draco. If I ever find you again, no matter where, I’ll go with you again. For three days.”He put the scroll in her hand and pulled out his wand.“One last thing, love,” he said, pulling her hair back away from her neck. “I’ll play fair this time…to a degree.”He pointed the wand at the soft patch of skin behind her ear and she felt a tingling warmth as he removed the tracking glamour, soothing the spot with a kiss. He wasn’t going to look for her. This time it was up to her.I’ve changed the title now that we know where they’ve gone ;)





	1. Malfoy Manor

She was wrong. Garrison was quite angry. Even after she told him that he’d given her the spell to get through the wards for the guest house he’d read her the riot act, reminding her how dangerous it was to go anywhere without her wand, to let herself be so easily disarmed, or to agree to anything that a Malfoy proposed.

“I understand that you two have something of a… _history,”_ Garrison said, lowering his voice to indicate jus how scandalous it all was. “But if you’re going to just start up and disappearing every time you want a good shag, we’re going to have to replace you on the team.”

She was scolded for slapping him and they were no longer on speaking terms although she was still a part of the team.

 

Information about Voldemort’s Order was slow moving through the pipeline and Hermione became anxious. It wasn’t just that she wanted the mission to be over, that she wanted the house in Wiltshire to be cleared out. It was also the promise she’d made to Malfoy in Hawaii. He’d left everything in her hands. If she wanted him again, if she wanted to see him, to talk to him, to kiss him…feel his tongue stroking against her…if she wanted any of that she would have to find him. He promised her that he wouldn’t track her down anymore, going so far as to remove the tracking glamour he’d put on her neck in Monte Carlo. But beyond that he hadn’t given her the slightest clue and she wondered if it meant that he didn’t want her to find him at all. Was this just another form of the torture he loved to inflict? Had his time with her all been a joke, using her and then disappearing into the wind? She didn’t want to believe it…but it was Draco Malfoy they were talking about. She couldn’t put anything past him.

Still, every knock on her door, every owl she received, every movement out of the corner of her eye she wondered if it was him; if he’d changed his mind and couldn’t stay away. Her eyes tracked every blonde that walked past. She scanned every man who flirted with her to see if it was Draco hidden beneath some disillusionment and every time her heart sank with the knowledge that it wasn’t him. What did it mean? Why was she so heartbroken without him? All they’d had was sex; delicious, mind blowing, leg shaking sex that no one else could possibly live up to. Not that she was interested.

There were other men, men in the Order, men at the Ministry, drunk men at the Leaky, all of them propositioning her at one time or another…offering to soothe her sorrow at losing Harry and Ron or wanting to “pick her brain” about civil rights for magical creatures. She went out with some of them, accepted their dinner invitations and even invited them back to her flat. But every time, she knew within seconds that she wasn’t going to bed with them. Their kisses did nothing for her. Their touch on her skin was dull, meaningless. They were soft and polite and romantic and treated her like a delicate queen and it bored her to tears. A man would pull her into his arms and she’d think back to Draco putting her on her knees, calling her a cock slut, stroking her lip with his thumb. A man would kiss her and she’d think back to Draco refusing the same, holding back his kisses until she nearly went mad with need, clawing at his back, silently begging for his mouth. Draco knew exactly what she needed, and he knew she was strong enough to take it.

 

She was sitting at her desk within Grimmauld Place when Fordham knocked on the door. 

“There’s going to be a meeting in Wiltshire. Not everyone, but some of the higher ups,” he said, not walking all the way into the room. Things were tense between all the team members. 

“When do we leave?” She asked, pushing back her chair, feeling the adrenaline start to course through her veins. 

“Three nights from now. You, me and…Garrison.”

“Fine,” she said, getting up from her desk, relieved it was about to be over. She'd ask for a transfer to another team and be done with Garrison for good.

 

 

Hermione, Garrison and Fordham snuck into the guest house at the Manor. It was nearly midnight and they could see the telltale Morsmordre quivering in the sky over the darkened mansion, billowing black smoke streaking from the horizon, signaling the incoming Death Eaters.

“How many?” Hermione asked as Fordham cast a heat and pulse charm from his wand…three…four... 

“I’m detecting five. Not a huge meeting,” Fordham said. “Wait. Six. There’s someone else at the far end, a different cluster. Like its not part of the meeting.”

“Could be a house elf, or a maid,” Hermione suggested.

“Or a hostage,” Garrison said. “We’ll surprise the five that are together.”

 

The path to the Manor hadn’t been used for years according to Draco. He told Hermione that it was actually called the Mistress Passage – a convenient way for the Lord of the Manor to pay a friendly visit to whomever was staying in the guest house. Now it was a musty damp tunnel, filled with cobwebs and swooping bats. Garrison and Fordham had been skeptical that it would work, doubting Draco’s intel, but it did indeed open into a small, dark parlor inside the main house.

The three of them stood silently, listening to the hushed conversation, closer than they thought it would be. The Death Eaters were going to London on September 1st, an attack on King’s Cross when everyone was headed back to school. This was the state of the war…even children were fair game. After they’d listened in long enough to cement the plans, the team exchanged silent signals and planned their attack.

Hermione was surprised at how easily the they were captured. There were no big names present of course...that intel had been incorrect. These were just low ranking foot soldiers who had probably been sent in as a sacrifice or they lived at the Manor. Fordham secured them all in wizard cuffs after they’d been stunned and they prepared to disapparate to Grimmauld Place when Garrison called out 

“Wait! What about the sixth? The hostage?” 

“I’ll go,” Hermione said, “where are they?”

Fordham cast the charm again and they saw one slow, even heartbeat coming from upstairs, not the dungeons, and not what they would have expected from a hostage.

“Could be a trap,” Garrison whispered as they conferred out of range of the restrained Death Eaters huddled in the corner.

“Well they can’t trap me if I sneak up on them, can they?” Hermione smiled and made her way to the front foyer.

 

 

Her footsteps were the only sound as she made her way up the wide staircase. The second floor of the manor was far less formal than the first. There were more paintings and knick knacks, more shining silver candle sconces, jewel toned carpets running the length of the wide corridors. She walked with her wand out, a whispered Lumos lighting the floor a few feet ahead of her. Somewhere down the hallway she heard music – Chopin if she wasn’t mistaken. Reaching the end of the corridor she saw light spilling out onto the floor from a room off to the left. She extinguished her wand and crept closer, staying close to the wall.

The door was only half open, low warm light from a fireplace glowing and flickering on the walls. Taking a deep breath she held out her wand and entered the room.

“I’m glad it’s you and not that crusty old git you were trying to shag.”

And there he was, sitting at a grand piano in a bedroom suite nearly the size of her entire flat. He was barefoot, wearing a pair of dark wash jeans and a gray t-shirt that fit him like a second skin.

“Draco…” she whispered, still holding out her wand, even though her hand was shaking.

He stopped playing the Chopin and stood, pulling his lit cigarette from the crystal ashtray on top of the piano and taking one last drag before crushing it out.

“No kiss?” He asked, walking close enough that her wand touched his chest and with one finger on the tip, he pushed it off to the side.

Hermione grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt and pulled him against her, kissing him before he could make another smart remark. He plucked the wand from her hand and threw it over his shoulder, walking her backwards across the room until she was at the foot of the massive four poster bed, his mouth laying a trail of kisses down her throat, his hands roaming up beneath her shirt, over her ribs, the pad of his thumb brushing over the underside of her breast.

“That’s more like it my sweet little kitten,” he murmured, pushing her jacket off her shoulders, working his leg up between hers until she gasped.

“Wait!” She pushed him away, wiping her wet mouth off on the back of her hand, struggling to catch her breath.

He smiled at her with a little bit of incredulous pity, his eyebrow arched high as he hooked his finger into the waistband of her jeans, pulling her forward, licking at the shell of her ear.

“You don’t want me to wait,” he said, “Not really.” 

“Draco, I’m not here alone. Garrison, Fordham…”

“Have what they came for, darling. Unless you plan on turning me in.” He searched her face with genuine concern and added, “unless you plan on going back on your promise.”

 

She’d given her word four months ago that if she ever found Draco again she would go with him wherever he lead. She agreed she would stay with him for three days. And no, she had no intention of breaking it, because it was a promise she thought about every day, every long, lonely night as she wondered where he could have gone, where she was supposed to find him.

“How long have you been here?” she asked, stepping away from the temptation of his perfect mouth.

He sighed and turned to sit on the edge of the bed, confident that she was not going to give up on “having a conversation” before he could get in her pants.

“Not long. I’ve been following the Death Eaters just like you have and I knew when those dimwits would be here. I snuck in the same way you did and hid up here in my old wing,” he said, running his fingers over the dark wood of the bed frame.

He’d imagined bedding her here for months, laying her down in the silken linens, smelling the sweet scent of her hair, hearing her moan his name when he made her come. He’d imagined waking up with her in the Manor, making her breakfast, showing her the library, the art, playing the piano for her. He knew she hadn’t been here since the incident with Bellatrix. He knew that walking inside the walls of this place was like entering the gates of hell and he wanted to change that. He wanted her to see what it looked like in the sunshine, when the drapes were open, when there was music. He needed her to see the light inside it’s darkened walls, although he wasn’t sure why.

Now that she was there though, standing in front of him; now that he’d felt the way she’d kissed him, pulling him in with such ferocity that he’d nearly laughed, he wanted to take her away so that the only focus was her. He wanted to show her what relief there was in hiding from all this, pretending it wasn’t happening, to get drunk and watch the sun rise. They could run away. She could stop being Granger. He could stop being Malfoy. It didn’t matter where they went, he just needed to be with her.

“I suppose if you hadn’t shown up they would have…” he didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as the door was kicked open all the way, Garrison and Fordham standing there with their wands at the ready.

 

It was not lost on Draco that Hermione stepped closer to him than to her colleagues.

“Fucking Malfoy,” Fordham spat. “First we’re looking for you then we can’t seem to get rid of you.”

“I like to keep things exciting,” Draco drawled, leaning against the foot of the bed, not concerned in the least with their aggressive attitude. He could tell just by looking at them that they had no fluency in wandless magic and they were far more concerned with posturing than securing him.

“Why didn’t you cuff him? Stun him?” Garrison asked Hermione, his voice calm but laced with disappointment, like a parent upset with her choices. “He’s a wanted man.” 

“He was wanted for information and he gave it to us,” she said. “I told him…” 

“What, that you’d suck his cock again the minute we got in the door?” Fordham laughed but was on the floor stupefied before he could say another word.

Hermione turned and saw Draco, his hand extended in front of him, eyes fiery with rage. He was not out of practice.

“Apologize to her,” he said, walking to stand over Fordham’s groaning form.

“I don’t take orders from Death Eaters.”

Draco stupefied him again without his wand, a bright blue light exploding from his palm, rendering Fordham completely unconscious.

“Stop,” Hermione said, touching his arm. “The more you do, the more they’ll have on you.”

“Make your choice, Granger,” Garrison said, lifting his wand, aiming it at Draco. “But just know that if you don’t turn Malfoy in, I’m reporting you to the Ministry.”

“I made a deal,” she said. “He gave me the info and I told him we would let him go.”

“And here I was thinking that following your dick was a uniquely male experience,” Garrison snorted. 

Draco lunged forward but Hermione grabbed his elbow, pulling him tight against her body and with a deep, inward pressure and a loud crack, both of them were gone.

 

 

 


	2. The Black Tentacula

They twisted back to reality on a darkened street outside a huge, brightly lit hotel.

“A little warning Granger, that’s all I ask,” Draco said, catching his equilibrium and trying to figure out where they were.

“Sorry,” she said, her face filled with concern. “I just knew you were going to punch him or crucio him or something and I had to get us out of there. He was baiting you.”

“You think I don’t know that? Give me a little credit, kitten.”

“I try to give you as little as possible,” she said, looking through the contents of her beaded bag. “Do you speak any German?”

“I know a few choice phrases that I learned from a girl who attended Durmstrang. Alka. She was…very bendy…”

“Never mind,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s just go inside.” 

“Wait a second. Where are we?” He said, looking around at the architecture, not following her.

“Mannheim, Germany,” she said. “I’ve…I came here for an international magical creatures symposium two years ago and I loved it. This hotel is amazing. There's a pool...”

“Oh Granger….” he said, a maniacal twinkle in his eye. “We’re near Heidelberg, aren’t we?”

“Y..yes. It’s a bit south—“ she was stopped from talking as he pulled her into his side, grinning from ear to ear.

“I promise we’ll come back here to this beautiful, very proper and classy hotel if you want to, Hermione, but there’s something I just HAVE to show you first.”

 

*****

 

It was raining in Heidelberg, and they’d apparated to a spot just outside the castle set high on the hill that overlooked the small sleeping city along the river. She’d heard about the “artistic” nature of the wizarding community in Heidelberg but never figured it was something that Malfoy would be interested in. Then again, she didn’t know he could play the piano before tonight. Pulling out her wand, Hermione cast a rain shield over their heads and he took her hand pulling her towards one of the crumbling turrets of the magnificent castle, now just a tourist destination, having been bombed out in World War II. 

“Where are we going?” She asked, amazed at how quickly she fell into step behind him, going along with whatever he wanted in the blink of an eye. She trusted him with her life. She’d never done that with anyone, not even Ron.

“Just a cozy little spot that I think we can have some fun in.,” he said, pulling out his wand and tapping a pattern on the red brick. “Tell me, kitten, have you ever heard of The Black Tentacula?”

 

The wall slid open and revealed a downward winding staircase lit by spiraling green flames in smoky glass sconces. As soon as they started walking down she could hear music through the walls; a strange mix of what sounded like opera and thumping modern dance music. He was taking her dancing?

Wizard Heidelberg was a hot destination for students looking to sow wild oats after graduating from school. Houses and rivalries and rules and points were thrown out the window and magic was practiced freely and dangerously when mixed with constantly flowing liquors, easily acquired Pixiehair Weed and any other of a dozen illicit potions to dull or heighten the senses. It was a small community of musicians and authors, artists, actors, the freethinkers and the uninhibited. It was NOT a place she’d ever been in her life.

The seductive music grew louder but Draco pulled her in the opposite direction, down a darkened hallway at the first landing of the staircase, where a very slim, pale witch with blood red hair sat behind a desk. As soon as she saw Draco she lit up, her shining red painted smile a mile wide and Hermione saw how she sat up straighter, pushing her tits out, licking her bottom lip.

“Mr. Malfoy! We haven’t seen you back here in forever! How long will you be staying?” 

Hermione slithered up beside him and looped her hand through his elbow, resting her head on his arm and Draco grinned to himself. Her jealousy was delicious. If they didn’t get a room soon he was going to fuck her right through the stone wall.

“Well, she’s promised to let me have her for three days, but for now let’s just take one night,” he said, pulling her hand down to lace their fingers together.

The girl behind the counter collected herself, looking Hermione over and finding her distinctly lacking, but hiding it behind a veneer of forced hospitality.

“Of course Mr. Malfoy. Follow me,” she said.

 

The walls of the narrow hallway were crawling with thick, curling black Tentacula vines, slowly undulating, what little light there was flashing off of their sharp, shining thorns.

“They aren’t venomous,” the red haired hostess threw over her shoulder. “It’s actually a charmed grapevine just to – add to the atmosphere.”

Hermione didn’t miss the wink the woman shot in Draco’s direction or the fact that her eyes were devouring his grinning lips. She squeezed his hand and he smirked down at her with a raised eyebrow. It was clear that he was enjoying this silent catfight.

 

Their room was spectacular, unlike anything Hermione had ever seen. She felt as if she were in the bottom of a genie’s bottle, with a low ceiling and walls upholstered with silk in burnished gold and deep wine red. Heavy iron chains hung in swags and held stained glass oil lamps that gave off a flickering jewel toned glow. The floor was thick with lush velvet cushions and piles of dense furs. A frame on the wall was enchanted to show a starry night sky complete with a full moon, almost making her forget how far underground they actually were. One look at the sumptuous pillows and fabrics made Hermione realize how exhausted she was.

“Did you need anything else, Mr. Malfoy? The rooms and stage are closed for the evening but if you needed entertainment– “

“Just a bottle of Plume de Fer champagne for now, thank you.”

The witch disapparated and Hermione couldn’t help but smile at the brief look of disappointment on her face before she left. Draco pulled her in close and started to nuzzle her neck.

“I thought you were going to scratch the bitch’s eyes out,” he murmured against her ear. “Jealousy looks so sexy on you, kitten. Maybe we could arrange a little wrestling match between the two of you tomorrow.”

“You’re a smug bastard,” she sighed and pushed him away, trying not to fall under his trance so quickly but aching for him just the same. “I thought you said this wasn’t just about sex.”

“It isn’t!” He said, reaching for her again, his nimble fingers undoing the button of her jeans without even looking. “We apparated to Germany and walked down a hallway and everything!”

 

He knew she was just teasing him, he could see how desperately she was trying not to laugh, working so hard to be serious and working even harder not to jump him. So he wouldn’t push her; but he knew how to tease back, his fingers tickling up and down her ribs as she talked.

“What is this place?” She asked, making no move to stop his hypnotizing touch. 

“It’s a…club of sorts, for wizards of a certain…persuasion.” He reached up behind her back and unclasped her bra with two fingers, smiling at her little gasp of surprise. 

“This room doesn’t even have a bed,” she said as he teased her lace covered nipple with this thumb, looking her right in the eye, daring her to stop him. 

“The room _is_ the bed, Granger,” he said. “Any other objections?”

She shook her head. He had her against one of the velvet walls, his thigh working up between her legs, holding her face in his hands to kiss her again. 

“I do want to spend time with you…just talking…just being,” he said between kisses, her arms wrapped tight around his back. “But I haven’t seen you in months and now that I’ve had a taste of your skin, I _need_ you.”

The hunger in his voice made her shiver and she clung to him, grinding against his leg as her blood began to heat, her own need bubbling to the surface. But a knock at the door broke them apart.

 

The champagne arrived and Draco poured it into black crystal glasses, handing her one and holding his up for a toast, walking her back to her place against the wall as he spoke.

“Do you trust me to take care of you, kitten?”

“Yes,” she said, already feeling herself fall back into the submissive role he’d assigned her in Hawaii.

“Good girl. And this time you get to talk.” He winked at her. “I want to hear you saying the filthiest things you can imagine. To three days of hot…sticky…sweaty…wicked debauchery.”

He was nearly pressed against her and she touched the rim of her glass to his, her eyes glittering in the low light as her stomach flipped with anticipation and arousal.

“And very intense conversation,” he added with a smile.

“I’ll definitely drink to that.”

“I knew you would, darling.”

 

The champagne was unlike anything she’d ever tasted (which wasn’t much) and she supposed it was because she was an uncultured muggle with little knowledge of wizard libations. It was very dry but with a hint of something like cinnamon and nutmeg, something warm and spicy. It reminded her of Christmas, but bubbly on her tongue. When she looked up Draco was staring at her, his grin wide, his eyes dilated. He knew something she didn’t.

“Strip for me, love,” he said, pulling the empty glass from her hand. “Those clothes are going to start bothering you in a moment.”

He stepped back from her and pulled his own shirt off. Shucking his shoes and jeans, he comically dived onto the floor of cushions in his underwear, legs stretched out, hands folded behind his head to watch her squirm.

“What did you do?” She asked, running her fingers over her neck.

He was right. Every place that the fabric touched her was tingling with sensation; the loose straps of her bra over her arms, the lace on her nipples, the damp fabric of her panties between her legs nearly sent her over the edge when she rubbed her thighs together. Not bothering to wait for his explanation she pulled off her jeans and sweater, letting her undone bra fall to the floor. Reaching for the waistband of her panties, Draco cleared his throat.

“Not those, not yet,” he said, stroking himself through the fabric of his grey boxer briefs. His voice was strained…husky. “Put your back against the wall again. Spread your legs.”

She did as he asked, feeling the wetness building between her legs, a sheen of sweat on her warm skin. Watching him watch her made her even hotter, the look of hunger on his face, the way his tongue flicked out over his lips as he looked her over, palming his hardened cock.

“Run your hands through your hair,” he whispered. “Feel your fingers over your scalp.”

She did, and almost instantly goosebumps rippled over her skin, a shiver running through her blood. Her hips rolled, bucking against nothing; but the feeling of her wet panties shifting between her legs made her gasp.

“Close your eyes now, witch. Touch your neck, your throat. Touch yourself how you imagined me touching you when you thought of me. Your tits, fuck they’re perfect, twist your nipples get them nice and hard.”

He was riveted to the sight of her body under the influence of the Iron Feather Champagne. It was an enchanted wine, only available at places like the Black Tentacula. It heightened the sensation of touch for an hour or so and he could see that she was already on the edge of an orgasm just standing there, her whole body undulating like a snake, her mouth open, eyes closed, hips swiveling and bucking, her back arching and stretching trying to find some sort of release. He directed her fingers to her stomach and her neck rolled, her head resting on her shoulder as she moved to slip out of her underwear.

“No don’t!” He said, crawling forward to kneel in front of her, kissing the insides of her spread thighs. “I come up with all these grand plans to torture you darling, and then you drive me crazy and I can’t wait. You’re a wicked little kitten.”

He ran his hands up her legs, over the waistband of her panties, then gathered the fabric in his hand and tugged up, the fabric slipping between her slicked labia, tight and rough against her clit.

“Oh fuck, Draco please. What did you do? What did you give me? Please let me come!”

“Poor baby. I only gave you a glass of champagne, love,” he said, dragging his lips up and down her thigh, still tugging at her panties, feeling her legs tremble as she tried to stay standing. “Maybe it was…a specific _type_ of champagne, one that makes you… _feel_ more…but other than that…well I just don’t know what the problem could be.”

He spread her legs further and looked up at her face, twisted in beautiful agony, her eyes still closed, her lip trapped between her teeth. She sunk her fingers into his hair, pulling him towards her bucking hips and he decided to let her off the hook, taking the fabric between his teeth and pulling it down her legs. He kissed the smooth bumps of her hip bones, dipped his tongue into her navel.

“What do you want, kitten? Tongue or cock?”

“Fuck, Draco. Please just..."

Hermione fell to her knees and pushed him onto his back, kissing him hard on the mouth as she straddled his hips. 

“Cock then?” He muttered against her mouth. “Go down and get it then.”

She slid down his body and he groaned at the stimulation of her damp skin against his, having had the champagne himself. She raked her fingernails down over his chest and pulled down his underwear, freeing his thick, stiff length. Her hair tickled over the head of his prick and he gasped, his hips snapping up.

“You need it too, don’t you,” she said, lowering herself, her tight, slick sex enveloping him. “You need it as badly as I do.” 

She leaned forward and pulled his hands over his head, pinning his wrists to the floor as she fucked him, taking her time with each slow, deliberate roll of her hips.

“Yes,” he growled through clenched teeth. “I fucking need it.”

She smiled at the desperation in his voice and slowed down even more, letting her nipples brush over his chest, her hair sweep across his skin. He groaned and bucked and when he made a move to twist from her grip she simply closed her eyes, tightened her grip and said,

“Incarcerous,” and he was pinned in place with thick black ropes.

“The witch knows wandless magic now,” he breathed as she sat up grinning, not moving at all, just feeling him buried inside her. “But you know I’ll have to pay you back for this.” 

“I’m counting on it,” she said.

Slowly she started her rhythm again, bending over to kiss his mouth, tracing the outline of his lips with the tip of her tongue, nibbling at his jaw line, his earlobe, running her hands down the taut lean muscles of his stretched arms, every touch drawing growling sounds of pleasure from deep in his throat. 

“Fuck, Granger, I…” 

Draco’s hips snapped up against her and she knew he was close. Her whole body felt alive with each long stroke of his cock, every bit of her tingling from deep within, a throbbing energy building between her legs as she rocked against him. Watching the bliss on his face sent her over the edge and her climax ripped through her just a moment before his. She pushed down hard against him, her thighs squeezing tight to his hips as she felt his heat spreading inside her. He let out a quiet hiss between his clenched teeth as his body tensed and trembled beneath her and she let herself fall across his chest, freeing his wrists so he could hold her against him.

 

“When did you master wandless magic?” He asked, running his fingers through her hair.

“I haven’t mastered it at all, just a few handy spells that would aid in securing a criminal. Nothing like what you can do.”

He sighed and she rolled off of him, lying on her side to better see his face in the low light of the room.

“I see what you’re doing,” he said, his face deadly serious. “And yes, I’d be happy to train you up little witch. First I’ll need you to take out an ad in the Prophet proclaiming my brilliance…”

She pounced on him again, covering his mouth with her hand, giving her best scowl; but his laugh was contagious and soon both of them were on their backs, smiling up at the ceiling, catching their breath.

“I like making you laugh,” he said, his eyes flicking over to catch hers. “We didn't laugh very much in school, did we?”

“No,” she said, “not very often.”

They were quiet then, just staring, a contented smile on Draco’s face that made her feel warm and sleepy. 

“It makes me happy to see you happy,” he said, pulling one of the furs up to cover them both. “I wonder what that could mean?”

Before she could answer he pulled his wand from his pile of clothes on the floor and extinguished the lamps, sending them into darkness but for the weak milky glow of the enchanted moon on the wall. He pulled her over into his arms and kissed the crown of her head, something she’d missed from their night in Hawaii.

“Get some sleep, Granger. Tomorrow I’ll show you what the club is all about.”


	3. The Amortentia Lounge

Hermione woke first, tangled in a mix of Draco and fur and satin, the enchanted window now showing a muted sunrise, throwing the whole room into a surreal golden glow. Draco was asleep on his stomach, one arm thrown over her back, the other stretched long in the opposite direction, the covers bunched around his waist to reveal his broad back and exquisitely carved shoulders. She smiled at the peaceful look on his face, the tiny fluttering of his lips when he exhaled, his hair hiding one of his closed eyes. When she moved to snuggle closer she noticed something dark on his left shoulder, something she hadn’t seen in their mad scramble for release a few hours earlier.

It was a tattoo. Only a few inches square, black ink, it was a pair of open wizard shackles just like the ones she’d put on him in Monte Carlo. When they were in Hawaii she’d touched, licked, kissed every inch of his body and it definitely hadn’t been there. This was new. She reached across him and traced the ink with two fingertips.

“Like it?” He mumbled into the fur-covered cushion beneath his face.

“Why did you…it’s nice…I mean when…”

He rolled onto his side and rested his head on his arm, his eyes only half open.

“I wasn’t sure that you’d find me again, wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again. I wanted to make sure I always remembered our little…adventure together, Granger.”

She took her hand back and mirrored his position, staring at him with a smile on her face.

“Six months ago I thought you were a complete prick,” she whispered, brushing the hair from his face.

“And what’s the percentage now?” He asked, one corner of his mouth turned up.

“Mmm…down to like 60%.”

She curled up against him and they dozed for a bit longer until Hermione’s stomach rumbled beneath the covers.

“Well then,” he said, kissing her temple. “That’s a good sign to start our day.”

 

****

 

She hadn’t noticed the small black lacquer chest in the corner of the room the night before, but now Draco pointed his wand at it and it opened, revealing neatly folded clothes inside.

“They have something of a dress code here. But if you’re uncomfortable with it I can throw my name around and we’ll figure something out, OK?” He said, pulling things out and handing them over. “No shoes first of all. Who needs them?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow and unfolded the black satin robe he’d given her, which wasn’t anything too shocking. It hung down to her knees and the belt kept it tightly closed. She pulled her hair up into a knot on top of her head and watched as Draco pulled on a pair of worn, buttery soft black leather pants and matching thick leather cuffs on each wrist. Her mouth started to water as she watched the muscles in his back bunch and move while he dressed, the tendons in his forerms shifting beneath the leather. His "costume" had no shirt and she thanked the gods for it.

“OK,” he said, pulling one last thing from the chest. “I’m putting this on you because I don’t want to share you, not because I think you belong to me…yet.” He winked at the last comment and she looked down into his open palm to see a plain black leather collar with a simple silver buckle. He touched his wand to the silver tag riveted to the front and a scrolling M, much like the tracking glamour he’d put on her neck, appeared on the silver. She shivered, running her fingers over it.

“What if I don’t wear it?” She asked, although she’d already made up her mind that she would. If there was anyone in the world who could convince her she was safe in a dog collar, it was Draco.

His eyes went a bit dark, a bit of the Malfoy she remembered from years past.

“If you don’t wear it we’re going to spend half of our day telling people to stop touching you, looking at you, propositioning you. And I’ll guarantee at least one bloody fist fight because I get possessive.” 

“You’ve been here before,” she said, as he walked behind her and wrapped the leather around her neck.

“Yes,” he said, pulling the buckle tight, the metal cool against her skin.

He stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders, chest pressed to her back. With a flick of his hand a mirror appeared on the wall in front of her and she saw herself, her submissive self, a different Hermione Granger than she’d ever expected. Her reflection was a study in dichotomy, pale skin and black satin, a collar that designated her as a slave but somehow made her stand taller, made her feel stronger as if this little piece of material were proof of what she could take, that she wouldn't be broken.

“Have you ever been…possessive with anyone else?” She asked, looking at the floor, feeling silly for even asking. She had no right to that information. They weren’t a couple, they weren’t married.

His hands ran down her arms and around her waist, his chin on her shoulder, a bit scratchy with a couple of days beard growth. She looked at their reflection and smiled. Who in the world would have thought she'd ever end up cradled in Draco Malfoy's arms.

“No little kitten,” he whispered. “In the past I’ve been happy to pass my girls around and watch them suck someone else off or bury her face between the legs of another woman, maybe let her bend over a table and get railed while someone else was swallowing my load.”

He felt her push back against his hips, her skin warm beneath his touch. Draco ran his hands up the front of her robe, slipping his fingers inside to find her nipples taut and sensitive to his touch. She moaned as he twisted and massaged her breast.

“But I don’t want to see anyone else giving you pleasure today,” he said, grinding against her ass. “No one gets to lick that clit but me. No one else gets to feel you soak his hand while you come. No one else gets to feel you milk his cock with your tight pussy as he hammers into you from behind.”

“O…OK..” she stuttered, letting her head fall back against his shoulder. “But we’d better leave this room now or else we never will.”

He kissed the bone at the top of her spine and stepped around her to the door, but she didn’t move, holding her robe closed, her legs close together, one foot resting on the other.

“What?” He asked, and she warmed at the genuine concern on his face. “Are you scared?”

“Are there…do you have any rules for me?” She asked, feeling her cheeks go red as she said it, her heart starting to race. She _wanted_ rules. She _wanted_ his collar. She _wanted_ Draco to be possessive…to want her, to fight someone for her. The whole idea of it had her core clenching with arousal.

“Of course love,” he said, stepping closer. He actually hadn’t planned on any, but seeing her eyes dilate, her chest flush made him want to put her on a leash and drag her around on all fours. She was a born submissive, whether she'd ever admit it or not.

And he knew why. She was tired of being in charge of it all. She was tired of running missions for the Order, of being twenty five years old and having to carry the future of Wizarding Europe on her back. They’d lost their friends, lost their families, lost their lovers and she had to stay strong and stoic, holding everything she felt deep inside for the good of the Army, for the good of the world. Everyone looked to her to save them, the last one left, it all fell on her. And when she gave herself over to him, she could let that all go and trust he would keep her safe. She could stop having the answers or making the plans or choices or decisions. All she had to do when she was his was feel. And realizing this alone made Draco change his plans for the day. Perhaps there was something darker she needed…a stronger, deeper release. Something to break through and break down.

He stood in front of her and smoothed one of his hands over her hair, twisted the leather collar so that his monogram was in the center. She stood there silent, her breath slow and deep, her wide, bright eyes focused on his as he made his inspection.

“From now on you can call me Mr M. Is that acceptable?” He asked, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

She bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from purring at the way his biceps tightened, the veins in his forearms running thick down to the cuffs on his wrists.

“Y-yes…” she stuttered.

“Yes what?”

“Yes Mr. M.”

“Good girl. You will walk behind me or beside me. You will not speak to strangers. If a man or a woman touches you appropriately you will tell me immediately. You’re free to ask questions and make observations, and scream out my name when I’m making you come, but otherwise I advise you to simply take everything in. We’re not in class. This is not a library or a lab. It’s a fuck club. Come on down in the mud with me, darling. I promise you’ll have a good time.”

She smiled and nodded and he took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together before they walked out the door.

***

He lead her back down through the halls lined with the black Tentacula, back to the reception desk which was now manned by a woman with long blond hair, wearing a strapless black leather minidress. She nodded at the two of them as they went by, heading towards the spiral staircase yet again. The music was different at this time of day. It wasn’t quite as loud and sounded ethereal; chimes and lutes and sounds of nature, like you might hear in a day spa.

They turned round and round, heading deeper into the earth, towards the bottom of the club. They passed other couples wearing similar clothing. Sometimes it was the wizard wearing the proprietary collar. Some witches were on leashes, their mouths obscured by a scold’s bridle. One or two men recognized Draco and nodded their heads. A tall, dark haired man in the same pants and cuffs as Malfoy leaned in to sniff her hair. A tendril had fallen loose and he wrapped it around his fingers.

“Mr. M?” She said quickly, but without much urgency. She didn’t want to cause a scene.

Draco looked over his shoulder and immediately grabbed the man’s wrist, slamming it into the stone wall.

“Don’t touch,” he growled. “Or do you not know the rules of the collar here?”

“Sorry mate!” The man answered, holding his hands up in surrender. His own girl was cowering against the wall. “Some girls like a little stolen touch here and there.”

“Yeah, well she’s not most girls is she? She’s my girl. Don’t let me catch you stealing so much as a breath of her air, you understand me?”

The man and his sub scurried up the stairs in the opposite direction and Hermione squeezed Draco’s hand.

“You didn’t have to overreact like that,” she whispered against his arm.

“I know,” he said, looking down at her with a crooked grin. “But it got your juices flowing to see it, didn’t it, kitten?”

“Yes Mr. M,” she said, amazed at how well he already knew her body.

****

It was quiet in the Amortentia Lounge, which was decorated almost exactly like their room. There was no actual furniture, just cushions and pillows, folded up furs and swaths of silk. Very low black lacquer cubes sat scattered around the floor, covered with platters of fruit and flaky pastries, whipped cream and custard and more bottles of Champagne, both enchanted and regular. Thick pillar candles hovered above their heads as Draco took her hand and lead her to a darkened corner.

There were three other couples enjoying their breakfast and she watched as a woman fed her partner a strawberry covered in dripping chocolate, licking the juice off of his bottom lip, her hand pressed against his bare chest. She felt her cheeks start to burn, goosebumps rippling down her arms as she wondered how far they would go in this room. Did Draco expect her to have sex in front of these people? The thought of it shot a shiver of arousal down her spine that she didn’t expect. She’d never even considered having sex in public.

“There she goes, thinking again,” Draco said, pulling her down to sit beside him. “Be careful, kitten. I may have to give you another rule.”

“You can’t stop me from thinking, Mr. M,” she said, a little hint of sarcasm in her voice, but there was something else too. Perhaps a little regret?

“No, I can’t,” he said, kissing her forehead and guiding her to lie on her back, her head on his lap. “But I could blindfold you, cast a muffliato and you’d have nothing to analyze. All you could do is feel.”

He ran his fingers through her hair, over her eyebrows, around the outline of her lips. She wasn’t looking at him, her eyes focused somewhere in the distance, a wrinkle of worry between her eyebrows.

“No one knows you here, darling. And if they do, they know better than to say anything. Shut everything down but your senses.”

His fingers played over her throat and down across her collarbone. She let her eyes flutter closed as his hand slipped beneath the black satin robe, down over her stomach, settling between her legs, just resting there, the warm weight of his hand, reminding her of what he _could_ be doing.

“Open your mouth, kitten,” he said. “And keep your eyes closed like a good girl.”

A cool drop of juice hit her lip as he held a slice of orange over her mouth. Her tongue darted out to taste it and he gave her more, squeezing the fruit, swiping the flesh across her lips. Draco bent down to kiss her before letting her eat the orange, sucking the sweetness off her tongue.

“Would you like more, hungry girl?”

Of course she did. She wanted more of everything; more food, more kisses, more of his hand between her legs.

He fed her a fat, sweet strawberry, two more segments of orange, a finger coated with whipped cream, all the while leaving his other hand still, resting comfortably on her mound. After he slipped a thick slice of banana between her lips she started to squirm, pushing her hips against his hand.

“So wiggly,” he said, taking a sip of champagne straight from the black bottle set on their table. “Is it more food that you want, kitten?”

“N..no Mr. M,” she breathed, letting her legs fall open as she reached up to touch his face, her thumb touching his wet mouth. As she moved her robe slipped up her thighs, exposing her further.

“Mmm. Something to drink then?” He teased, pouring the cold champagne into her open mouth. It spilled from the corners of her lips and ran down over her throat.

“Please,” she begged, her hips thrusting forward.

“Miss Granger!” he whispered, stroking one light fingertip between her soaking folds. “We’re in public!” He adopted a tone of mock horror, once again drawing one finger through her wetness, not nearly enough pressure to give her relief. “Do you want me to finger fuck you in public?”

At last she opened her eyes to plead with him, only to find him chugging from the champagne bottle again, smirking at her desperation.

“Yes. Yes please, Mr. M.”

He gave her a bit more then, stroking slowly, two fingers dipping deep before circling the little hardened pearl hidden there, their eyes locked on one another the whole time.

“Is that all you want? I can do other things for you, love,” he said, his voice low and buttery with seduction.

He worked his fingers inside her, pumping slowly, crooking them just a bit to make her whimper, her legs clamped tightly around his arm.

“I could make you come all over my hand in a heartbeat. But I could also make you stand up. I could have you straddle my legs and let me tongue your cunt, your juice dripping all over me.” His hand moved faster as she whined, his fingers circling her slippery clit. “Or I could lay you out on this table and bury my cock to the root in your tight little hole. And everyone here could watch me fuck you limp, hearing you scream for me the whole time. Do you want me to do that, kitten?”

Her back arched as she cried out, her hips rolling and twisting, trying to draw his fingers deeper, but it was his stare that threw her off the precipice. The way he watched her come like it was his greatest achievement, his molten silver eyes locked on hers as she clung to his arm, her whole body trembling as the orgasm washed over her, pulling every last bit of air from her lungs.

She went soft beneath him, her eyes closed again, her body covered in sweat and champagne and the sticky juice of the fruit. Draco pulled his fingers from her and stuck them in her mouth for her to clean. While she sucked he let his eyes glance up to the other couples around the room, all of them riveted to the writhing witch in his arms, other men stroking themselves, wishing they were him. He’d never been harder in his life.

Hermione smiled at him after catching her breath, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, tickling her fingers through his hair.

“Thank you,” she said.

He smirked at her again: that wicked, devious smile that she should have been wary of.

“Thank YOU darling,” he whispered, pulling her up to sit beside him. “After all, you gave everyone here a breakfast to remember.”


	4. Incarcerous

Draco fed her more breakfast and she laughed when he ate nothing but two pieces of dark chocolate and whatever whipped cream he managed to lick off her skin.

“You’re like a child,” she said. “A life of playtime and candy.”

He smiled but she saw a shadow cross his face, his grin flickering for a moment.

“I thought I was going to die when I was sixteen. Now I just live life how I want…much to my mother’s great dismay,” he said, swiping another fingerful of fudge sauce from the silver bowl on the table.

He stood and held his hand out to her, pulling her to her feet. The lounge was busier now, couples and threesomes, a trio of women in the corner twisted together, kissing and licking, moaning loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Does imagining that turn you on, love?” he whispered in her ear. “Tasting another woman? Feeling her grind against your face?”

His eyes were bright, cheeks pink, obviously intrigued at spectating such a thing, but Hermione only smiled and lifted an eyebrow.

“How do you know I’ve not done it already, Mr. M?” she asked demurely, laughing as his expression popped with surprise.

“Naughty kitten,” he said, taking her hand. “Come on then you adventurous minx. I have a challenge for you.”

 

They followed the twisting staircase until it ended at the mouth of a long, dimly lit hallway. Hermione followed his lead into the darkness, walking beneath a sign that looked like a heavy slab of stone suspended by two chains. Carved into the slab was a single word: INCARCEROUS

“Remember darling. If ever I’m going too far, doing something that doesn’t make you positively drip with need, all you have to say is ENOUGH.”

“Yes Mr. M,” she answered, starting again to feel that amazing combination of trepidation and excitement, fear and anticipation…climbing the hill of a rollercoaster without knowing how steep the drop would be.

He stopped at a room where an image of a glowing coiled silver rope was on the door. Draco pulled out his wand and tapped the door saying, “Malfoy”. It opened and the glowing rope turned red, twisting itself into an elaborate knot.

“Now we won’t be bothered,” he said, putting a gentle hand on the small of her back to guide her inside.

 

She was surprised to find what looked like a relatively normal bedroom. There was a fluffy black four poster bed with simple nightstands on either side and a tall black armoire. A few oil lamps illuminated the room revealing the rather “unique” features. From the ceiling hung a menagerie of bars, hooks and thick chains. Beside the bed was a long leather bench that reminded her of the pommel horses she’d seen in the Olympics. One wall was covered in mirrors of all shapes and sizes hanging in ornate, gilded frames and in them she caught the reflection of a huge wooden St. Andrews Cross mounted on the wall behind her.

With a wave of his hand Draco conjured a dozen thick white pillar candles that sat in a neat, glowing line on the floor. He left her standing near the doorway and padded across the thickly carpeted floor to open the armoire, revealing a wide selection of…toys. She recognized the flogger, a riding crop and a thick tightly coiled bullwhip.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Fear and anticipation.

“Is this OK, kitten?” He asked, his voice soothing in her ear.

“Yes Mr. M,” she answered. “I’m just…I’m trying to take it all in.”

“Yes please, explore,” he said.

Then, in a blink, his entire demeanor changed. He stood ramrod straight, nose in the air, hands folded behind his back with a very well practiced haughtiness. She didn’t dare say it, but it reminded her of his father.

“Take all the time you need and then I would ask you to pick three implements.”

“I don’t…”

He shot her a withering look that both thrilled and terrified her.

“Three tools. From the cabinet or around the room. The cross, the bench, the bed, these are not tools, they are furniture.” He circled her as he spoke and then stopped near her ear. “Once you’ve picked your tools Miss Granger and placed them at my feet, your disciplinary hearing will begin.” He leaned in even closer then and licked at the skin behind her ear, clucking his tongue in dramatic disappointment. “You’ve been a very…bad...girl.”

He had indicated a penchant for roleplay when they were together in Hawaii, but the speed at which he simply _became_ someone else, so cold and stern, even adopting a different posture, was impressive. He was frowning at her as she ran her hands over various tools and toys but also added, in character,

“I will tell you, Miss Granger, if you have selected something too far out of your…range,” he said, examining the fingernails on his left hand.

“Thank you…sir,” she said, trying out a different address. He nodded tightly.

 

Making her pick what was used would give her more confidence in the scene and her anticipation would be for pleasure, not fearing what would happen next. Without a word of instruction from him, she instinctively knelt in front of him and placed the three items at his feet. In the end he found himself having to bite back the surprise at her delicious choices. 

A black leather belt with a silver buckle, a leather tipped riding crop and a white pillar candle.

She actually fucking bowed her head and he crouched down in front of her.

“Very good. Now tell me are you opposed to rope, Miss Granger?”

She looked him in the eye, doing her best not to smirk at his haughty, formal accent.

“No sir,”

He stared at her for a moment. Just stared, his eyes wide and fiery, as if he were desperately trying to communicate something. Finally he grabbed her hard by the back of her neck and kissed her, his tongue driving deep as he massaged the bone at the top of her spine.

“Fuck, you get me so hard, Granger,” he said, all pretense and arrogance gone for a moment. “You were born for this.”

He winked at her and stood again, his fingers running over her cheek before he slipped back into character.

“Miss Granger,” he said, clearing his throat. “Please stand, take off your robe and walk to the bench.”

He held out out his hand as if inviting her to sit at a restaurant and she obeyed instantly, walking to the black leather bench with her head bowed. Draco stood behind her, very close behind her, close enough that she could feel his erection digging into the small of her back, his breath on her neck. He bent her over the bench, resting her cheek on the leather and stretched her arms out to the sides.

“Don’t move,” he said sharply. And then, “Incarcerous.”

In an instant her wrists were bound to the legs of the bench with scratchy black rope that she knew would leave burns on her arms. He kicked her legs apart gently and two more ropes appeared, securing her ankles to the same bench legs. He was…transfixed at the sight of her; her long legs with curving calves and lean, muscular thighs spread wide, exposing her completely; the way her biceps strained, her slim fingers holding tight to the rope; the little bones of her spine rippling down her back and that gorgeous, amazing ass, presented to him in the most delicious of ways. He lightly smacked one cheek of it with an open palm and she gasped, looking over her shoulder. His hand had been perilously close to her pussy with that spanking and the heat and sharp impact had run through her like lightning. She closed her eyes and in a very tiny move, tipped her hips back as if to offer him more of herself.

He didn’t miss it.

“Are you trying to get out of your punishment by bribing me with your ass, Miss Granger?”

“N…no sir.”

“Pity,” he said, rubbing one hand down the length of her back and between her legs only once, just to be sure that she was wet. She was very wet. “I might have taken you up on it.”

 

The truth was that while he was most definitely going to fuck her, and probably sooner than later…he was also here to get some answers…real answers. He already knew that Hermione was a shit liar and if there was a threat of three strikes of the crop he doubted she’d even attempt it. And yes, it was a bit underhanded to treat such an intimate fantasy scene as an excuse to plumb the depths of her mind…but she knew who she was getting involved with the minute they arrived. Besides, his questions were nothing more than any other man might ask during pillow talk. The only difference was…they weren’t using any pillows.

“Miss Granger,” he said, holding the black leather belt in his hand, folded in half, slapping it lightly against his palm. “According to your record, your job six months ago and actually for the three months before it was to locate the fugitive, arrest him and bring him to London for questioning. Was it not?”

Hermione paused. This wasn’t the questioning she was expecting. She’d thought they were playing teacher and student, boss and secretary…something entirely fictional. But now she knew. This was Draco Malfoy and he was going to drag some ugly and embarrassing truths out of her while driving her out of her mind with pleasure and she cursed herself for not realizing it sooner.

“Yes sir,” she said quietly.

“Did you volunteer for that position or was it assigned?”

“There aren’t many members of the Order left…so it wasn’t like…”

He snapped the belt right near her ear and the crack of air caused her to jump in her bonds, sucking air in deep between clenched teeth.

“DID YOU VOLUNTEER FOR THAT POSITION OR WAS IT ASSIGNED?"

“I…I volunteered.”

He knew it.

“And tell me why you chose the disguise you did at the Succubus? Why you planned a little fake seduction to lure him in?”

“It…it was the most convenient…”

The belt stung like fire when he snapped it across the tops of her thighs, the thick leather hitting her between her legs, making her gasp.

“Try again, Miss Granger. Why did you choose to play the role of a dirty little kitten at the Succubus?”

“I knew you…I knew _he_ would like it. I’d been watching him and he was very…”

“Very what?”

“…active,” she said, with a particular emphasis that almost made him laugh. Good ol’ Granger, still trying to be prim and proper while spread out over a bondage bench.

“Mmhm. Yes, I’ve heard that about him,” he said, drawing his fingers up between the wet lips of her pussy, circling her clit once before pulling away. “Do you think that perhaps you chose your disguise because you were curious about him?”

“I needed information from him…”

Another sharp strike; this time across the flesh of her ass. It didn’t sting as much but she still felt the amazing jolt of energy run through her blood.

“Yes! I was curious! He looked much better than I remembered him looking at school, far more relaxed and content. When I saw him with other women during the surveillance period they were always flushed and smiling and he seemed to treat them…well.”

“You sound surprised that he would treat women well. You must have thought he was some sort of monster.”

She fell silent, unsure if he wanted her to respond, and if he did, she wasn’t sure if he wanted the truth. She’d told him the day she captured him that she hated him and he’d returned the sentiment instantly. Of course they’d both been in the process of stripping out of their clothes at the time…but still, the emotion was there. How could he be surprised that she suspected the worst of him? He had to remember the things he’d said to her at a school.

His mouth was near her ear then, his hand on her back, his voice a whisper that soothed like a warm blanket.

“You don’t have to say anything Kitten. I already know what I was back then.” He pulled away with a little bite on her earlobe and she exhaled her relief.

“Let’s move on. Because I believe after your ‘rendezvous’ in Monte Carlo you saw him again, didn’t you? Another chance to turn him in, but you didn’t.”

“No sir,” she said, closing her eyes and remembering how he’d woken her in her hotel room in Hawaii.

“Were you happy to see him?”

“Yes.”

“So you could get your information? About the wards at the Manor?” 

She paused and he cracked the belt across her thighs again. This time the leather hit her clit and she nearly screamed.

“Answer me, Miss Granger.”

“No,” she said. “He did promise me the information but that wasn’t why I wanted to see him.”

“I see. And why did you?”

“I wanted…I wanted to…fuck…him again. I couldn’t stop thinking about him after Monte Carlo. I wanted him to come home with me to London. I promised I would keep him out of prison, that I would keep him safe but he didn’t trust me.”

“Perhaps it was that he didn’t trust anyone else.”

Both of them fell into silence. She expected further questioning, further flogging, but instead he slipped two fingers inside her wet heat, stroking slowly, his other hand on the small of her back as he whispered in her ear.

“Are you thinking of him now? This…fugitive from justice? This reluctant informant? This…enemy?”

“Yesss,” she sighed, pushing her hips back against his hand. He crooked his fingers inside her and moved his thumb to circle her clit while he continued to speak.

“And now, because you wanted to…fuck this man, this person on the other side of a never ending war that almost everyone has forgotten still was being fought…now that twat Garrison will _report you to the ministry,”_ he said, mimicking Garrison’s nasal, haughty tone.

“Yes, but I don’t…”

“Shhh,” he said, brushing her hair back from her face, continuing to pump his fingers in and out of her silken core, feeling her thighs start to tremble. “I didn’t ask you a question Miss Granger.”

He leaned forward and kissed her temple, the back of her neck, the space between her shoulder blades. His thumb worked faster and she whined, bucking against his hand.

“You're dripping all over my hand! Are you going to come?” He asked. “In the middle of a disciplinary hearing, Miss Granger? What will the Order say? What would Fordham think? How would you show your face at the Ministry?”

“I don’t…” she started her sentence and paused, unable to speak as he snuck a third finger inside, pressing against the perfect spot deep within.

“What’s that?” He asked. She was unable to answer, unable to put words together.

She felt his tongue dragging over her thighs and up between her legs. He pulled his hand away and sucked her clit between his lips, laving it with the heat of his tongue, but he wouldn’t let her fall apart. Not until he heard her admit it. Not until he found out the truth. And so he pulled away completely, leaving her flushed and trembling, straining against the ropes, looking over her shoulder to find him standing there, licking his fingers clean.

“Please,”

“Please what love?” He asked, walking around the bench so that he was in front of her, crouching down to look her in the eye. “Please let you come? You haven’t answered the question yet. When everyone finds out that you’re fucking Draco Malfoy, what will the Order say?”

Her pupils were blown wide, her cheeks red, forehead dotted with sweat. She sunk her teeth into her lower lip and looked away from him and so he stood, leaving her line of sight.

She’d almost forgotten about the other tools.

“Aren’t you tired, Miss Granger, of living your life for the good of everyone else?”

“I…I like to help other…”

The crop whistled through the air and raised a bright pink stripe across her already well beaten ass. His tongue soothed the heated flesh in one long stroke before he pulled the crop between her legs, tickling at her swollen clit with the leather tab at the end.

“I don’t want your life story…I want you to answer how you feel now.” He traced the length of her spine with the crop, then along the lines of her arms and down her legs. “Since the day you arrived at school you started living for someone else. Perhaps you were lonely. Homesick? Maybe you wanted to feel important? But you gave yourself completely to Potter and his little ginger friend. You sacrificed the last, most formative years of your education…” he leaned in close to her ear then, “…the most important thing in your life…just to save Harry.”

“It was bigger than saving Harry and you know…”

Another snap across her thighs.

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking so eloquently, darling. You’ll make me angry.”

“I’m sorry sir,” she said.

“My point is…that no matter how big the cause, how noble…in the end, you lost yourself. Aren’t you tired of it? Tired of having no roots? Running around the world searching for answers that no one has, the hidden treasure that doesn’t exist? Don’t you hate having no one to come home to, falling into your bed exhausted, grateful to just still be alive, wondering if someone’s got you on their hit list?”

“Yes!” She finally cried out, lifting her head to look him in the eye. “YES, I’M EXHAUSTED! I’m tired of being HERMIONE GRANGER. I’m TIRED of being the world’s last connection to Harry Potter! I’m tired of everyone looking to me for the answers! More than half of my life has been nothing but fighting this evil. Always me. Every day!” The tears she’d been holding back suddenly spilled from her eyes, streaking down her cheeks. “I can’t do it anymore!"

She dropped her head, collapsing into choking sobs that took the breath from her, hiding her face in the worn black leather of the bench.

His sense of empathy wasn’t well exercised; even less his sense of guilt. But now they both raced to the surface. He knew too well the feeling of exhaustion, the pressure of completing a task you never asked for, never thought you’d be able to do in the first place. He felt guilty for pushing her too far in what was supposed to be a pleasurable game, guilty for striking her with the crop and most of all for not letting her come when she’d asked. He nearly ended the whole thing until she finally sniffed up her tears and looked into his eyes. There she was. The same strong and beautiful Granger, still refusing to back down…and she was finally telling him what he wanted to hear. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and kissed her hard on the mouth making her moan against his lips.

“Please,” she said again. “Please let me come. Fuck me hard, please.”

His hand moved towards the ropes holding her wrists and she shook her head.

“No, leave them,” she said. “I want to be just like this. Just…use me, take me. Wild…base…primitive. I just want to feel you inside me like we’re…like we’re fucking animals.”

He growled his response, moving behind her and stroking her with two fingers, spreading her open. He’d been hard as steel since first seeing her bound there, but hearing her beg for his cock was nearly too much. He wasn’t going to last so he had to make it good. Grabbing her hips he dug his fingers into her skin and drove inside her in one hard thrust, easily slipping through her tight wetness as she arched her back. She cried out for him as he pulled her back to meet each snap of his hips, begging for him to push deeper, thrust harder.

“Oh God, Hermione…I can’t…” he bent over her back to kiss the side of her neck, flattening himself against her as he felt his orgasm building, his rhythm stuttering.

“Harder..harder…”

“Say you won’t go back to them…” he breathed in her ear. “Say you’ll never go back.”

“I…Draco…”

Her insides fluttered and clenched around him, her heart pounding against her ribs as her climax started, rippling, bubbling through her blood.

“Say it.” He was hissing now, holding her hair back in his fist so that she could feel his lips touching her ear. “There’s…there’s nothing for you there….no one…”

“And what do I have here?” she panted, her fingers digging into the leather of the bench.

He pushed up on his elbows and emptied inside her with one final thrust, groaning as he came. His pleasure set off her own and she pushed back hard over his pulsing cock, milking him dry while the whole world went white around her, heat and energy and electricity all coursing through her veins. 

Draco freed her hands and collapsed forward on top of her back, his thumbs rubbing over the tender skin of her wrists.

“Me, Hermione,” he said, brushing her hair back from her face as he fought to catch his breath. “I thought it was obvious. You’ll always have me.”


	5. The Final Bounty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished this one. But as is my way, stay tuned for an epilogue although it will be a second as I have some other projects.
> 
> As always, thanks everyone for your immense support, your wonderful comments and your love of irredeemable smut. Particular love to my WFW ladies on tumblr, and Strictly Dramione and all my other fanfic friends who have helped me through writer's blocks and mean comments and depression and sickness and general frustrations. 
> 
> I keep saying "AFTER THIS I'M DONE WITH DRAMIONE I HAVE TO DO SOMETHING ELSE" and then I come up with fifty more ideas. So i'm sure I'll return with more wizard porn...just not sure when :)
> 
> Special thanks to Inception for the quote.

She wasn’t quite sure how she got to the bed, or how long she’d been asleep. Her last few minutes on the bench had been otherworldly, the power of her orgasm and the emotional release he’d pulled from her leaving her lightheaded and euphoric, floating somewhere between dreaming and awake. She remembered Draco lifting her, stroking her hair. She remembered his last words.

_You’ll always have me_

He was sleeping with his arms wrapped tight around her, their legs twisted together beneath the cool cotton sheets. She snuggled in deeper, tucking her head beneath his chin, listening to his heartbeat, slow and steady.

_Don’t you hate having no one to come home to? Tired of having no roots?  
_

Who did he have? Like he’d said, he’d sold out his parents, most of his friends were either dead or in prison and the organization that had stolen his childhood was now determined to see him killed. Wasn’t he tired as well?

With every breath her body ached, a dull, throbbing reminder of the belt and the crop against her skin. It had all been purely sexual at first – the pain blooming and fading like fireworks, his fingers and tongue soothing her pain, the words pouring from his mouth like melted caramel triggering the wetness between her legs.

The words.

The words had made it something else. The questions, the refusal to accept her weak, practiced answers that were always good enough for everyone else; the interrogation of it all had given her permission to crack. It gave her permission to claim later that she cried from the pain, the leather cutting into her flesh. But it was the way his words cut deeper, revealing the soft, damaged truth beneath that brought her to tears. Saving Harry, fighting the war, it had taken everything from her and they still wanted more. These people who barely knew her, who saw her as nothing but a symbol, a totem. They wanted everything. To ask for anything in return, to ask for respite, for help, would be seen as weakness…as letting them all down. To want something for herself was selfishness and didn't fit the saintly mold they'd created for her. They wanted all of her; and like she was still a child they wanted to tell her where to go, who to fight, who to love.

Love.

_You’ll always have me._

 

He mumbled and twisted, his fingers tickling over her back, his nose buried in her hair.

“Still sleeping little kitten?” He asked, his eyes still closed.

“Is my disciplinary hearing over?” She countered, kissing the little bump of his collarbone.

He smiled and stretched, a delicious groan escaping his lips, the tendons in his throat taut, standing out against his neck.

“I think you’ve had enough for one day, love.”

She pulled away from him and sat up against the headboard.

“Those things you asked me, about being tired of running, having no one…no roots…”

“We’re not so different after all, you and I,” he said, propping his head up to watch the gears turning in her mind, their machinations nearly visible in her expression. "Are we? I’ll admit to you darling that most of my reason for telling you not to go back is selfish,” he said, running his fingertips over her forearm. “When you left me in Hawaii I couldn’t stop thinking of the things I wanted to show you – to tell you – do with you…do _to_ you,” he added with a wicked grin. “I was terrified at the thought of you not finding me…not even looking for me.”

“I was terrified that I wouldn’t find you,” she said. “But I can’t just…withdraw from the world, Draco."

“Why not? It’s not forever. But we’re not even thirty, Granger, and we’ve already been fighting in a war for ten years! It’s not right to ask that of someone, anyone, not even the Brightest Witch of Her Age. Do you know what they told me? To lure me in? To flatter and impress me? They said I was a Dark Prodigy, capable of immense power. I was only fifteen! Its not right!”

They both went silent, sitting with that knowledge heavy on their chests. It wasn’t right. But bigotry and hatred weren’t right either. And yet Hermione knew that those were things that humanity had been battling for ages. The minute Voldemort was defeated some idiot would rise up to take his place with a new war. It was the cycle of life. They would never be rid of it. 

“Hermione, I don’t know if we’ll ever see Harry or the Dark Lord again. They could be dead for all we know,” Draco said, pulling her back down to lay on his chest. There was something about feeling her skin against his, the smell of her hair, her sweat, her arousal mixing with his that was like a healing balm. “Maybe if they do come back…maybe that’s when you can go back…that’s when I’ll go back. But right now I just want to live my life.”

“With me?” she asked, her voice smaller and more unsure than he’d ever heard it.

“Yes with you,” he answered, kissing her on the mouth softly, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I mean what I said to you. You’ll always have me if that’s what you want. Let me show you what it can be like just being alive…being alive with someone else, waking up with someone else, trusting them with your life.”

She rolled him onto his back and straddled his hips, grinding against his cock that was quickly hardening.

“You trust me with your life Mr. M?” she asked, her eyes wide and innocent, matching the demure tone of her voice.

“I do Miss Granger, no matter how ill advised that may be.”

Her eyes flicked over to the table beside the bed where two white pillar candles were burning.

“I do promise to take good care of you,” she said, pulling his arms above his head and whispering “incarcerous” in his ear.

“Just know this, pretty witch,” he said. “You’re going to be punished for luring me into getting the upper hand.”

“I’m counting on it, sir.” She bent forward and kissed him on the mouth, her tongue stroking languidly over his, a dreamy drawn out kiss as she reached down to guide his thick length inside her. He closed his eyes and moaned at the sensation.

“Fuck, you’re still so wet for me, kitten.”

He tried to thrust into her but she wouldn’t move, holding him still with her hands on his chest.

“What’s your rush Malfoy? We’ve got no one to go back to,” she said, holding the candle above his pale, exquisitely carved chest. “I love seeing you pull against those ropes...your arms...the muscles in your shoulders. I love watching your face when we fuck,” she said, letting a thin trail of the melted wax puddle on the center of his chest and he arched his back, hissing with pain, his eyes burning with want, staring her down.

“Have you ever played with wax before, little witch?” He asked, his breath stuttering as she granted him a little roll of her hips before letting the wax drip onto his chest again.

“I may have dabbled a bit in my youth. You’re not the only wizard sex maniac, you know,” she said, dripping a line of white wax down the length of his sternum to his navel. It was beautiful, creamy white and smooth, hardening against his pale skin.

“Just know love,” he said, twisting his hands in their bonds, “that I can’t even articulate how red your ass will be if you blister this perfect flesh.”

“I understand, Mr. M. Besides, isn’t it me who should be taking the pain anyway?”

She arched her back, feeling the full length of him seated and twitching inside her, finally rolling and bucking her hips in a steady rhythm. He groaned and thrust into her and she poured another stream of hot wax down over her own chest, the droplets hardening on her nipples, sending an electric shot of pain and ecstasy through her blood. Before it could cool completely she set the candle aside and bent forward to kiss him, smearing the warm and pliant wax between them.  

“Finite,” she whispered in his ear, and he immediately he wrapped his arms around her, flipping the two of them so she was on her back, her legs hooked tight over his narrow hips.

“What a good girl you are,” he growled as he hammered into her, the cooled wax cracking between their twisting bodies. “You know you belong underneath me.” Before she could even open her mouth to protest he smiled. “Only in bed darling. Of course.”

She kissed him, sinking her fingers into his hair, holding him as close to her as she could as her climax rippled through her, an implosion of heat and sensation. His muscles stiffened in her arms and she heard him groan his release, one last hard thrust as deep as he could go. It was different now, their joining…their intimacy. It was different knowing that there was no time limit, no race to the finish. There was no need for desperation anymore. He was hers. But there was still room to tease. 

“Now that I’ve promised to stay,” she said as they both caught their breath, Draco’s head resting on her stomach, his hand threading through her hair. “Do you think you’ll be more apt to share? Maybe let some tall dark and handsome wizard _rail me from behind_ or maybe watch me _bury my face between some witch’s legs_?” She asked, repeating his fantasy from earlier. 

He looked up at her, his eyes dark and stern, mouth set in a sneer that he’d perfected at age twelve. And yet now it sent a shiver up her spine, waiting to see what he’d do to her.

“You really are a glutton for punishment aren’t you kitten?” He said, twisting one of her wax covered nipples until she squealed. “There will be no sharing. Your pussy is mine.” He grinned at her, knowing by the way her cheeks flushed that it was the answer she was looking for. He’d known it all along…she wanted to be dominated. “And you don’t have to bother declaring your own rules for me as there’s no one else I want to be with but you.”

Her smile faded just a bit and he kissed her stomach, crawling up to lay beside her.

“For now,” she said. “It’s all very exciting now. What if you grow tired of me…what if we can’t get along if we’re not fucking, what if…”

He silenced her with a tender kiss; slow and deep, his fingers light on her cheek.

“Who am I, Trelawney? I can't tell you the future and I don’t care about what if. I’ll worry about it when it happens. Right now I’m afraid that I have to admit that I love you Hermione. I know you currently have me at…what was it…sixty percent complete prick? But I can’t help it. I love you. Not just your gorgeous body and beautiful eyes, not just the way you suck cock like a fucking master or how you moan my name. I love hearing you laugh, your lopsided smile. I love your energy, your determination, your fight. You’re brilliant and funny and you make me feel like maybe I can stop running around the world looking for a home. Maybe I can just run around the world and bring home with me.”

Her eyes were glistening with tears that ran down her cheeks when she blinked. He wiped them away with his thumb and pulled her in to his chest, kissing the crown of her head.

“When did you learn to whisper sweet nothings like that?” She asked, looking up at him. “I’m going to have to reassess your prick percentage.”

“I hope so.”

“I’m afraid I love you, too, Draco. As ridiculous as it sounds. I can’t imagine walking away from this, from you…I can’t imagine not waking up with you next to me. You found something inside me that I didn’t realize I needed.”

“A good paddling?” He said, rubbing his palm over her tender ass cheeks. She pinched him just below the ribs.

“A release. A release like I’ve never felt; and I want to feel it every day. I want to give myself to you. I trust you. I trust you to make me feel everything I need.”

“Care to make it official?” He asked, nuzzling at her neck, his hand wandering between her legs, stroking softly through her wetness, sinking two fingers inside, his thumb finding her clit and making her gasp.

“H-how?” She asked, looking him in the eye as he thrust his fingers in and out, working her slowly, keeping her wanting.

He loved watching her face when he touched her; the way she searched his eyes and bit her lip. She looked at him as if in surprise, wondering how he could make her feel so good…perhaps a bit of worry that he would stop. He loved how she took her pleasure with no shame, looking him right in the eye, gasping, smiling, pressing her forehead to his, breathing his breath.

“So many ways darling. I could pierce you,” he said, pinching her clit between two slick fingers. She dug her nails into his back, her mouth falling open. “I could brand you,” he continued, pulling his fingers from her and drawing an M on the tender skin just above her pubic bone, the flesh glistening with her own wetness. “You could wear my collar.” He bit at the skin on her throat, just beneath where the black leather collar of the club already sat tight against her neck.

“A tattoo…” she breathed as he slipped inside her, wrapping her legs around his as they lay facing each other on the bed. Neither of them moved, just feeling him fill her, the heat and depth of their connection. “To match yours.”

He smiled, one good thrust to show his appreciation. “Perfect. Not an exact match…more of a compliment.”

“Enough talking,” she said, reaching down between them to feel his length sliding back and forth. “We’re not in class Malfoy…this is a fuck club.”

 

 

They returned to their room after a bit more exploration, gathering what little things they’d brought on their sudden vacation, having already decided where to go next.

“They’re going to come after us, Draco,” Hermione said, slipping back into her practical persona, returning to real life if only for a moment.

“What was it that muggle movie said?” He asked, lacing up his black boots. “We will lead them on a merry chase. A few stops before our final destination, some clever clues and we’ll be in the clear. Trust me, love, I’ve been on the run for years and I’ve never been caught.”

“Oh really?” She asked, throwing her arms around his neck. “Perhaps you’d care to amend that statement…my love?”

“That reminds me,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I have something for you.” He pulled a black velvet bag from his pocket and reached in, far deeper than the bag appeared to be. “You’re not the only one with a magic handbag.”

He pulled out a thick gold bar, nearly the size of a Dairy Milk. One side was smooth, the other stamped with the Malfoy seal.

“Here you go darling, five hundred galleons. Never let it be said that you didn’t get your bounty.”

“Thank you Malfoy,” she said, tucking the heavy payment into her own beaded bag. “Trust me when I say that it’s been a pleasure doing business.”

He pulled her in close to his chest and with a final kiss the two of them twisted into thin air, disappearing without a trace.

 

THE END


End file.
